


Dans le royaume des airs, nous sommes des Dieux.

by fassenheimr (svartalfheimr)



Series: aerial view: attrape-moi si tu peux [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Clint & Sam are BFFs, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson is So Done, Sam-Centric, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Tony Stark Has A Heart, don't tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svartalfheimr/pseuds/fassenheimr
Summary: During a sleepless night, Sam wanders in the Royal gardens of Wakanda and is attracted by the sound of something familiar that shouldn't be here.An IronFalcon soulmate AU, in which Tony knew all along that Sam was his soulmate, but Sam didn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I tweaked a bit with the soulmate trope: in this AU, the majority of people have each other's first words, some don't, and some are Blank. Sometimes, even if one of the mates is Marked by his mate's first words, they might not Mark the other with their first words, but those they will say whenever they are ready to bond. So.. If the soulmates meet when one is too young, the younger mate will have the older's first words, but the older will have the words of their younger mate when they are ready to bond. Sometimes, one of the mates can deny the relationship, and so the other will have their Mark said whenever/if they are ready.
> 
> There are mentions of a panic attack, a very light one about homophobia (as in Steve lived in the forties and they weren't super cool about it these days), and one about Riley's death. Also, swearing.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Also, English is not my primary language ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Before yelling, just listen to me, okay?”

 

He should've stayed in bed.

 

Sam kept thinking it over. Thinking about the Day his sorry ass met Steve Rogers. Captain freaking America. Cap Day. Cap-ruined-my-life Day.

 

Okay, he might be exaggerating. Please, indulge him; because of the (former) Star-Spangled Man with a Plan, his ass had been beaten not by one, but two senior citizens, and a tiny dude that thought 'Hi, I'm Scott' was totally okay to say to someone when you get caught breaking and entering. So yeah, Sam was pissed.

 

And yeah, the morning he met Steve, he should've stayed in bed. Right now, he would've probably been enjoying coffee with one of his coworkers back at the VA. Maybe not right now, considering it was fuck o'clock in the morning and that Wakanda wasn't technically in the same time-zone — but you got the point. Right now, Sam would've been enjoying a very good cup of coffee, and maybe even a croissant if he felt like it, instead of being stuck in the mud, his mouth full of whatever kind of grass was supposed to grow in this goddamn forest... in his PJs. _ In his freaking PJs _ .

 

Was he gonna acknowledge the fact that Tony Stark stood before him in his stupid armor, looking at him with his stupid eyes and his stupid goatee? No.  Sulking Reflecting on his life seemed like a better option. He had every right to because there's dirt sliding in his ears.

 

“I get it. You're upset and —”

 

The man sighed. Sam did not care. Sam was going to lie there forever and think about his life choices. He would not look at Stark, and he would not ask himself how the heck the guy could be here. After all, it's Tony Stark. If he wanted to come to your country, there's little chance you could stop him from doing so — especially when you're trying to lay low because you're sheltering terrorists. Oh yeah, he forgot about this too, now he's a terrorist.  _ Thanks, Captain America _ .

 

“I knew this would happen. I mean, look at us– all of us. Everything turned to _ shit _ .”

 

And whose fault was that? Not Sam, for sure.

 

“Okay. You can ignore me. I can do with the silent treatment. I just need you to listen, anyway.”

 

Another sigh. Sam imagined himself laughing at another corny joke from Phoebe in his office back at the VA, the two of them sharing a bag of Skittles — because Sam was a good guy. Sam shared his food, unlike some Brooklyn asshole who'd rather eat three bags by themselves, letting their friend starve to death in the middle of Arizona when said friend was there in the first place to help them. (Sam never held grudges. Never.)

 

Sam was a decent man. He liked to joke around to ease people when they were tensed and to flirt whenever it seemed inappropriate — except when he was with one of his vets. He was a professional before everything else. He told lame pick-up lines to Steve that the man never seemed to get (but Sam knew better), and acted like a dork around Natasha (he thought she liked it, or at least she never threw knives at him, so that was a win).

 

He thought of flirting as a challenge; if someone flirted with him, he would flirt back hard. He and Clint drove the others crazy. They would flirt back at each other as if it was the biggest competition in the world, with pick-up lines as bad as they could get. He never thought too much about the fact that Stark never seemed to play along with them. Well, with him.

 

He saw Stark flirt with others, shamelessly. He never realized the man never did with him. Never did anything with him, to be honest — they never got along. Now he knew better than to think it was some weird jealousy over Steve.

 

Sam even thought, for a while, that the two of them were soulmates. It would have explained the tension between them. He thought that Steve was the one to have the First Mark, and had decided not to reveal his to Stark. It happened, if one of the soulmates would not be ready for a bond quickly enough after the first meeting, their Mark on their pair would not be their first words. Most of the people had each other's first words, but this wasn't so rare; his Mom was the First Marked, and she told his Dad's words three years after they met. They knew all along they were each other's because his Mom's chicken scrawl had been unmistakable, but since the words were not shared, they thought Fate told them they had to wait a bit. So yeah, Sam thought Steve was maybe not ready, after all, the guy came from a time where same-sex relationships, even if in the case of soulmates, were frowned upon.

 

Turned out that Sam had spent months looking for the good captain's soulmate. When he realized who Barnes was to Steve, he thought Stark might've had a crush on Cap and was a very jealous man, hence his attitude towards Sam.

 

Sam felt his throat tightened and blinked several times. He kept looking away from Stark. The silence started to oppress him.

 

“Guess I just said your words, then.” Sam didn't budge. “Well, that confirms it. I came here because– because I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner, and I should've done something before,” Sam could hear the armor erratic movements, “all of this happened.”

 

The mud on his cheek started drying. It itched, but Sam did not seem or even want, to move. Maybe if he was still enough, Stark would leave. Maybe Sam would leave too, with him. His thoughts were confusing.

 

For his defense, Sam found himself in this situation because his thoughts were already confusing him, keeping him awake. At one point, he had decided to take a walk outside — in his PJs, because who was going to see him walking around the Royal gardens in the middle of the night except for the Dora Milaje? It's not as if they haven't seen him buck naked before — which was something that could happen when one come out of the shower and His Highness decided to wait for him in front of the bathroom's door because apparently, it was okay in Western customs. (Again, _ thanks, Captain America _ .)

 

So Sam kept wandering around, until he heard something that sounded definitely like a repulsor beam coming from the forest and, in his very wakeful mind, thought it was a good idea to go there without warning anyone else or even change into some real clothes.

 

He was not going to acknowledge the fact that his first reaction had been to feel instantly at peace. After all, he and Stark never got along, so there was no reason that hearing his armor would bring him peace.

 

What he acknowledged was the fact that he knew it could not be Rhodey. After all, he had not been sleeping in the first place because he had been haunted by that man. (No matter what Steve said, it was his fault. Sam knew it.)

 

“But I didn't. I was a coward. I know it now.” Silence. “The first time I saw you, you — you were looking at Captain Tight Pants. You were looking at him as if he's hung the Moon in the sky.”

 

And he did. For Sam, Steve was like a dream come true; he was the hero Sam always thought he was. For months, Sam woke up the morning thinking Steve had never been real — sometimes he still did. Cap was his hero, shield or not, the man was his model. And Sam was his friend. Sam loved him like one would love his childhood hero, sometimes he even thought he loved him like a brother — but never like that, not like what Stark was insinuating.

 

“You said my words right after that. You looked at him, and when he introduced us, you were still looking at him.”

 

Sam didn't even remember what was his first words to Stark. He didn't even remember which day they met for the first time.

 

“I'd been in the workshop for days, trying to get over the fact that I erased a whole country from the face of the Earth.”

 

Sam couldn't move.

 

“And I saw you.”

 

He didn't realize his eyes had been closed the whole time.

 

“Anyway, I–” Stark's throat seemed dry, “I sort of denied it for a while. Then, I realized too late that I never really talked to you, and that you kinda accepted the fact that we would never be more than colleagues. I chickened out and told myself it was okay. And it was– manageable, at least for a while.”

 

_ Until the Accords  _ was what Sam understood. It made sense. If Sam was being honest, it did. Stark chuckled.

 

“You told me, well, I think you were trying to be friendly, but since I stared at you and then talked right at Steve, the joke fell flat. After that, you kept staring at him, not even ruffled by how rude I was.”

 

He remembered now. He thought Stark didn't get his joke — the man looked exhausted and thinner than in the photographs, and Steve had warned him about Stark's bad habits.  _ Sometimes I think he does it on purpose _ . Sam had frowned at Steve's words. _ I mean, it looks like, sometimes, he does it because he has to – like he owes it to the world _ .

 

Sam, so nervous to meet the man, had said the first thing he could think of that didn't sound like he was fanboying.

 

S _ o, this is what the Sexiest Man's Alive look like _ . (Thank God Steve kept his mouth shut.)

 

“I never held the title by the way.” He fell silent for a while. “I don't know why I came. I'm not even drunk, for once.”

 

Sam's felt anger bubble up in his chest. He didn't know if it was the hissing tone Stark used that caused it or the fact that he used it on himself.

 

“I think I fell for you the moment I saw you smile, that first time you flew with Redwing. You should've seen yourself. You were glowing.”

 

Riley had said the same to him, back in the days. Sam couldn't help it – every time he was in the air, however dreadful the situation was, his inner-child was gleeful. The years he spent grounded had been the darkest of his life. He had chosen so; he thought he couldn't find joy in flying anymore, not without his brother. It was like he couldn't feel a damn thing.

 

That was, until Captain America told him to put on his wings. Ever since that, he kept flying — it wasn't as joyful as before, but it still made him feel  _ alive _ .

 

He opened his eyes and look at the sky. He could see the night fading away.

 

“I fell for you that day. I'm sure of it now. I–”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Sam realized, after an alarming amount of time, that he had been the one talking. He could feel he was on the verge of a panic attack. He tried to swallow it up — it was a bad thing to do, and he knew it would blow up in his face sooner or later, but he didn't want Stark to see him that way.

 

He wanted to roll his eyes at himself. How “manly” of him; he was the one telling his vets there was no shame in having panic attacks, that it was not in any way a weakness, and now he was the one trying to hide his. (He's never been good at doing as he said.)

 

Sam got half-up and looked at the other man. Stark was out of his armor, his back on it, sitting on the grass next to Sam's puddle of mud. He was staring at him, and for the first time, Sam truly understood Steve's words. The man looked like shit, if “looking like shit” could even describe him — the bags under his eyes had bags of their own, and his cheeks were too hollow to be healthy.

 

Seeing him, Sam didn't care about his own predicament. Sure, he could feel mud in his crack — and he would not say anything more on the subject thank you very much — and at least everything that was on his right flank had more-or-less dried. If only he'd looked where he was going. If only instead of just running towards the sound he would've looked down at his feet and not slipped on mud like a goddamn idiot.

 

Stark truly did shut up. Sam had not thought it was possible. (Sometimes, Sam could be wrong.)

 

He tried to say something else, but the only thing he could was, “How's Rhodes.”

His voice sounded far away. Something had flicked in the other man's eyes, for an instant so quick that Sam wasn't sure it really happened.

 

“He'll be okay.”

 

What Sam understood was,  _ for now, he isn't _ . He stared at Stark, and when he saw the other man avoiding his eyes, he swallowed.

 

“I didn't keep my promise to you. I'm sorry.”

 

It took some time for Sam to understand what the other man meant, but then he just felt himself shaking his head violently.

 

“I– I couldn't think straight. I saw him do it, saw him kill my–” Sam kept shaking his head to stop him from speaking, “I couldn't see anything else. Nothing else but the  _ Winter Soldier _ killing my mother.”

 

(If Sam had been in a better state himself, he would've realized Tony had insisted on Sergeant Barnes' alter-ego. But Sam hadn't been in a good enough state.)

 

“I'm sorry I–”

 

“ _ Don't _ .”

 

With his words, Sam had placed himself closer to Stark and froze when he saw the man looking at him. In this position, the other man could definitely see his words, blurred by the mud, but definitely on his stomach. He wanted to put his hand on it, to curl up on himself, but he resisted doing it.

 

“Don't apologize for it. Never.”

 

Stark looked at him as if he did not understand him, with this look that is so typically him — as if he was seeing everything that made Sam what he is, as if he was made of wires that only he could see. (Sam had always feared and craved that look. He never saw Stark turn it on him.)

 

(Even though Tony had, several times. He's just been clever enough so he never got caught.)

 

In a move Sam didn't know he had in him, he raised his arm and put his hand on the other's chest. Whatever Stark saw in it, he didn't care. This was for him. He would remember this moment, and one day he would forgive Tony. (Was he truly the cause of Sam's actual state? Probably not, but again, Sam was in no condition to realize that at the moment.)

 

The other man had put his hand on Sam's softly, almost as if he was afraid to break something, and squeezed it lightly — so lightly that Sam might have imagined it — then suddenly got up and in the Iron Man suit. Faceplate still open, Stark crouched and looked at him, his gauntlet coming to Sam's cheek but not quite touching.

 

“Take all the time you need. I owe you that much. But whenev—  _ if _ you... Just call me. I'll wait for you.”

 

He took off right after. Sam stayed a long time staring at the sky — so long the sun started rising. With a force he didn't know he had in him, he stood up and started walking back towards his quarters. When he looked at the building, he saw Wanda at her window, looking at him. He didn't acknowledge the look he saw in her eyes. (She  _ knew _ .)

 

He looked at his balcony. Steve was waiting for him inside.

 

He looked back at the jungle and realized the weather had changed. Hearing the thunderstorm, he closed his eyes and felt the tell-tale feeling of rain on his face. He stood like this, feeling the rain wash over him. He felt himself yelling with all he had, till his throat was sore. (The rain was too loud for others to hear him. But even then, he couldn't care less.) He felt himself going down on his knees, still howling, and started pressing his hands on his stomach, where the words laid.

 

(Funny enough, Sam never saw this writing anywhere else. He never knew Stark's writing — the man only used tablets and computers, and never seemed to write anything but his signature around the others.)

 

When the rainfall stopped, he got up. He walked to his balcony and opened the sliding glass door. He stared at Steve and stepped back when the blond tried to come closer to him. The other man looked at Sam's feet, probably seeing the mess he was making, but stayed silent, not moving anymore. Sam kept looking at him, as if he was meeting someone else entirely. He touched his stomach, and Steve's eyes followed his movement.

 

His throat felt constricted.

 

“Did you know?”

 

The way Steve's face fell said it all.

 


End file.
